


Beneath Your Armor

by velvetsun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 05:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetsun/pseuds/velvetsun





	Beneath Your Armor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [transfixeddream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixeddream/gifts).



Sam’s eyes traced the various paths of water as they slid down the pane of glass; scattered drops that found each other and gained strength together. The way they merged and split, broke and rejoined, sped up and slowed down with the pace of the drops that fell.

Sam hated the rain.

They were in some small town in the Midwest; Sam didn’t remember the name, and frankly he didn’t care. It was just another town to cross off in John Winchester’s long grocery list of stops in their lives. The towns were all the same anyhow, judging by the cheap, claustrophobic rooms they rented for each stay. No air conditioning with small tvs that barely picked up the local channels; currently playing through a static laden soundtrack of overexcited promises for no debt through some foolproof method - if you’re willing to pay three easy installments of seventy-nine ninety-nine.

Dean was asleep in the other bed, soft snores and the occasional slurred word slipping from his lips. Sam envied him. The easy way he could slip into dreams as soon as his head hit the pillow, peaceful and seemingly unaware of anything else in the room. Sam knew better. Dean had always been light sleeper, but little Sam noises never woke him: sudden volume increases when the channel changed or too loud curses that slipped out when he’d stub his toe walking back from the bathroom. Yet the creak of a door or the rap of a branch against the window, and he was up instantly checking for the source.

The wind was picking up; moans and whistles relentlessly taunted him just outside the window. Sam lay on his side facing Dean, concentration firmly centered on the slow and steady pace of his breathing, matching it as he watched his body rise and fall. He shouldn’t be afraid of storms anymore at nine years old, especially considering his knowledge, but the fear didn’t care. It wasn’t something that came easy; but when it did, it permeated through every pore and soaked his skin. With its long reaching fingers, it wrapped around his spine, fused itself to his bones and spread over him in a cold fire.

Pulling the covers up around him in a protective cocoon, Sam snuggled down into his pillow and tried to stay calm. He could hear his dad’s voice in his head, _it’s just rain Sammy, now close your eyes and go to sleep_. Dismissing his panic, like something so trivial and innocent in the grand scheme of things didn’t deserve his energy or fear, not when there were so many other things out there that did.

Brutal and violent, lightning tore through the room, lit it up bright casting harsh shadows across the walls as thunder crashed all around him. Sam scrabbled up the bed, almost on top of his pillow crunched up in a ball clutching the covers to himself, shaking.

Dean always slept in the bed closest to the door; Sam hated that in order to hold onto Dean he had to face the storm. And he tried to hold on; tried to ignore the window just beyond his brother where the small tree outside whipped back and forth in the wind, almost bending itself in half to cater to the strong force that pushed and pulled at it without mercy.

The tv crackled loud and sudden, the midnight shopping spree dead now without power. Sam’s head whipped around and searched for solace in the red glow of the alarm clock to his left, but it had deserted him too.

Another bolt of lightning cut through the blackness making Sam jump up out of bed. He scrambled the five feet over to Dean and jumped under the covers, clutching his back, white-knuckled and insistent.

“Ughhh.”

“Sammy?” Dean said, voice scratchy and sleep filled, as he rolled over to his back and into a chest full of little brother.

Sam fit himself to Dean, who had now turned over to face him. Nose pressed to skin, Sam wormed his head into the crook of Dean’s neck as he felt Dean’s arms wrap around him.

“Stormin’ huh?” Dean chuckled.

“Mmhmm. I’m sorry; I tried to stay in my own bed this time, I really did but…” Sam whimpered, barely coherent rambles that got lost against Dean’s throat.

“Shhh. It’s okay Sammy. You’re alright man, just sleep,” Dean whispered, soft and soothing as his hand ran in lazy passes up and down Sam’s back.

Calm. Warm. Safe. _Dean._

It’s something that’s always been there where Dean’s concerned. Those long fingers can’t reach him here, can’t slip under the armor that his brother provides.

Sam’s eyes slowly slipped shut, the tension seeped out of him, pushed further and further away with each pass of Dean’s hand. He sank further into him, fingers clutched at the threadbare cotton of his t-shirt, keeping him close. Dean’s warmth wrapped all around him; Sam finally let the soft sounds of his breathing lull him to sleep as the storm continued to rage outside.

When he woke later, a loud crash yanking him from his dreams, he jumped. Dean’s arms tightened instinctively in his sleep, and Sam let the security pull him under once more.


End file.
